Its best if I do it tomorrow. Ill have the preview done by then and I could show you what I mean, plus its 11:39 here and I just got back from being at a range since 4 this morning shooting and blowing stuff up, desperate for sleep. Tomorrow is just a mantaniance day so Ill have plenty of free time for previews and pms.

His breathing was heavy. His thoughts showed in his movement. His eyes were looking everywhere. He was fast.

Not that fast though.

He was noisy. Panting loudly, not worrying about dodging too many obstacles. His feet moved clumily around in the snow. Branches could be heard snapping all around him as he sprinted through the mountain-side woodlands. Sprinted in fear. He may be fast, but he was easy to track. He should have stayed with the group, his chances would have been better.

Not that much better though.

Even his smell was giving him away. He was scarred enough to soil himself. This prey is too easy. He wont give up without a fight, but considering how afraid he was his fighting isn't that great.

"I think I'll end him now."

The B.C.C.O. soldiers' emotions got the better of him, something that doesn't usually happen to the professionals. He ran as fast as he could, never thinking of stopping. Who knows how much longer he would have ran if he hadn't have been stopped.

The images played through his head as he ran. His squad set up camp in the hills. A small shack in the middle of the woods. Guard shifts were set so that someone was always keeping watch. How did they miss it? A shadow came in at night, slaughtered his squad members, all but the surviving four. They split in the forest to get away, to stay alive.

He must have ran for miles, he still didnt think of stopping. He was running for a while, but the fear was fresh. In the back of his mind, he knew.

The next he saw was a face full of snow. He had fallen. Not tripped, not stumbled, but tackled from above. The trees must have housed the shadow. The B.C.C.O. soldier did something he hasn't done in years. He faced horrible, God-awful things in his careere, but this is the one thing that brought him to tears.

A hand grabbed his helmet and flung it off. Next was his goggles and breathing mask. The hand grabbed him by the hair. He started to struggle. He heard the shadow shush him. A blade, he felt a blade barely touch his forehead. He screamed. He kicked. He tried to turn around. The mysterious killer continued to shush him. The blade started to dig into his skin. The soldier let out a blood curdiling scream. The blade sawed back and forth making its way across the top of his skull.

He was being scalped alive.

His scream turned into a gurgle after the blade went across the front of his throat. His death was quick after that. The weight lifted from his body, and walked back into the forest.

It ran, not in fear, but in duty. In vengence.

The group of four soldiers that escaped into the woods met up with a squad that was stationing themselves in a nearby cave. They told them of the wind that had blown through during the night, spreading death upon their comrades. "Look, I don't know what that thing was but it couldn't be human!" Said the frantic B.C.C.O. soldier.

"Calm down." said one of the soldiers from the supporting squad. "Was it reanimate?" He asked. The panicing soldier shook his head while trying to catch his breath. "No." He said. "It was using some sort of weapons. Blades. Like some, I dunno, hatchet or tomahawks or some shit man." One of the other soldiers from the supporting squad stepped forward. "Shit did you say tomahawks?" He asked. The other soldier from his squad lifted his hand. "Let's not feed into that campfire story bullshit." He said. "For all we know it could have been a survivor that knows how to handle a freakin wood axe."

Just then the B.C.C.O. soldier who was speaking violently fell to the ground, his mask and helmet ripped off his face as his head exploded in a bloody mess. The other soldiers ducked in a frantic manner. "It's here!" Said one of the soldiers who survived the night before. "It's shooting at us! Return fire!"

The soldiers flew into a panic, firing blindly into the forest, not knowing what was coming. One of them in the back let out a cry of pain. The other soldiers looked behind to see him fall to the snow, and arrow sticking out the back of his head.

"F*ck!" Yelled a soldier. "It's behind us!" He yelled. They began to fire in all 360 degrees into the woodline. "Where the hell is it!?" One asked. Then a large patch of snow landed on his head. He slowly looked up to see small movement in the trees. "Up!!!" He yelled. "It's in the goddamn trees!" They opened fire overhead. Snow and pine leaves fell by the bushel as their bullets pierced through the canopy above. As they fired, time seemed to slow as they saw something coming down from the trees, like an eagle swooping in to catch it's prey.

It landed with its feet on one of the soldiers chest, knocking him down. As it stood crouched ontop of the poor soldier, the others froze in fear as they looked at their attacker. Its skin was a dark brown. Black paint around its eyes with black streaks going down to its chin. Its hair was dark black and long past his shoulders. He wore a light brown animal hide jacket with tassels under the chest and along the bottom of the sleeves. A blue headband did little to keep his hair from his face and sported two white feathers dangling from the side. The same material for his jacket made for his pants and shoes. On his wrists were metal bracers strapped at the bottom with leather, which lead down to his hands and made dark brown leather fingerless gloves. In one hand he tightly gripped a ungodly threatening tommahawk, in the other a Smith and Wesson revolver. A bow crossed the front of his chest with the string went around his back, where his quiver and long-range Winchester hunting rifle was strapped.

They were being hunted by the rumored Apache Shadow.

He quickly struck downward with his tommahawk into his preys face. The other soldiers readied thier guns to fire. The killer leaped at another prey. The soldier attempted to dodge, he was to slow. The Native American grabbed him. In the back of his mind he noted that one of the soldiers had just finished reloading. The killer swung his prey around and shoved him towards the soldiers who began to fire his weapon. His prey was curtious, he had soaked in all the lethal rounds for him.

The swift killer then ducked under fire coming from another soldier who finally reloaded his weapon. He rolled through the snow and struck the soldiers shins with his blade. The soldier fell to his knees as the killer stood. He too the tommahawks blade under the soldiers chin, flipped him over his shoulder, cutting the head from the body. The momentum of his movements flung the head at another soldier who freaked out over the action. The soldier started to run away.

Another soldier readied his weapon and was about to open fire. The native took his tommahawk, hooked it under the barrel of the gun and lifted. The weapon fired into the trees as the soldier was left wide open. The killer took his revolver and placed it under the soldiers chin, barrel facing up. He fired and the soldiers brains splattered upwards from atop his head. The killer quickly spun around and flung the tommahawk. It soard cirularly through the air and the blade wedged into the back of the head of the soldier who tried to escape.

The killer walked over to the dead soldier and pulled the tommahawk from his split skull. He looked around at the bodies laying in the small opening. The snow beneath them turned red with their blood. He could hear a whimper coming from the scene of this brutal massacre. He approached it with his pistol ready and his tommahawk gripped tightly.

Sitting against a tree was the soldier who he intentionally let live. It was one of the soldiers from his strike the night before. He kneeled down infront of the soldier, who he knew was unarmed. He had wasted his ammunition on trying to kill the shadow last night.

"You fear me." Said the killer in a deep, Apache aceented voice. "So you will hear my words." He said. The soldier quickly nodded. "Y, yes. Just please don't kill me!" Said the frightened soldier. "I will ask you questions." Said the Apache. "Your answers might save you." He then took out a small blade, before the soldier could blink he had slit the muscle tendons behind the soldiers kneecaps. The soldier screamed in tremendous pain.

"What the f*ck!" Yelled the soldier. "You haven't even asked anything you psychotic freak!!" He yelled. The Apache shushed the soldier. "Your words are loud." He said. "Loud enough to wake the dead." The soldier then looked around nervously. "The hollow ones are approaching, driven by the scent of blood spilled from your allies." Said the Apache. "Your allies will make easy meal, but they favor prey that still move." The soldier nodded rapidly. "Okay okay!" He said. "If I dont help you you'll leave me here, I got it alright!"

The Apache came in closer to the soldiers masked face. "Good." He said. "Many nights ago, your people came and abducted my people from their homes. The ones who had fought back were slaughtered by these soldiers. I have heard stories of the wicked things you do to your captured peoples." Said the Apache. "Where are my people?" He asked.

The soldier strarted breathing harder. The sound of slow moving feet in the snow started to surround them. "Get me out of here and I'll tell you everything!" Said the soldier. "That is not how this works." Said the Apache. The soldier paused to think. His breathing slowed a bit. He looked down to the blood oozing from his legs. He looked up to the Apache.

"I... I don't know." Said the soldier.

The Apache stood and stared down at the soldier. "May the spirits have mercy on you." He said. "Because I have none to show you, and niether do they." He pointed out into the woodline. The soldier looked to the pointed area as the sounds drew closer, then back to the Apache, but he was already gone.

The wounded soldier crawled using his hands through the snow. He grabbed a gun from the body of one of his fallen comrades. He checked to make sure the magazine had ammunition in it. Half a mag. Not enough judging by the sounds from the woods.

He sat there in the middle of the small clearing, looking all around him for signs of movement. A bush moved. He opened fire in a frenzy. A twig snapped, he lit up the area with bullets. Before he knew it he was already out of ammunition. His gun clicked and he threw it down in a panic and started crawling to another gun.

He turned to crawl towards a gun he saw behind him. He slowly made his way to it, but stopped. He heard an unnerving sound. A low-towned "Uuuuugh." He slowly looked up, shaking in fear. Slowly staggering from behind a tree was a morbidly deformed man. His clothes ripped to shreads, his skin battered, beaten, cut and rotting. One arm missing, his intestines hanging out of his rotted open stomach, his eyes completly glazed over in a milky white. He was of the dead, walking again, seeking human flesh. He was what many call a 'zombie'. He and the others like him were what plagued this land, what has made everything go terribly wrong.

One after another the dead crept out of the shadows of the forest, closing in on the soldier. He yelled in fear. He picked up the gun. He fired away. The bullets pierced through the reanimated, not stopping them from coming closer and closer. His gun clicked. He cursed loudly. He looked around for another. He turned to see one of the dead standing over him. "F*cking hell!" He screamed.

The Apache crouched on a tree limb, watching the soldier struggle to survive. He watched as one by one they began to grab him. The soldier looked up, the last thing he saw while screaming frantically and painfully as the reanimated tore, bit, and clawed into his flesh was his killer, silently watching him being eaten alive.
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Trent grabbed Rosco. The dog was big and heavy, and fighting to be put back down. "Damn it Rosco!" Trent yelled. Roscos ears lowered and he settled down. "C'mon," he said while looking back at Jessie. "you first!" Jessie looked over the edge of the building top down to the rusty fire escape. "I don't know..." she said frightenedly. "Go!" Trent yelled.

She looked back at him, then to the door they took to get here. The pounding grew harder, the sounds grew more and more frightening. She swung a leg over the edge and hopped down onto the fire escape. It made an wary creak sound as she put all of her weight onto it. She turned back to look up and Trent and put her arms up. "Here!" She said. "Lower Rosco!"

Trent bent over the ledge and handed the big dog down to Jessie. "Careful he's heavy." Trent said. She grabbed him, almost dropped him, but sat him on the fire escape gently. The dog immediatly clawed at the side of the building looking up at Trent, barking at him. "I'm comin' boy!" He yelled. He turned around to pick his weapons up that he sat on the roof, his shotgun and bat.

He bent down to pick up the weapons when he heard the door being hit harder. He glanced up just as it swung off its hinges. He could see dozens of them trying to funnel through the doorway, the dead looking to feed. The one in front came out in a sprint. A runner.

It ran and closed the space between it and Trent, mouth gapping open, hissing and gurggling. Trent quickly picked up the bat and swung it upward, hitting the runner in the chin. This knocked it back, and knocked its jar loose, but it started to get up on its feet again.

Trent ran to the fire escape. "Go! Go!" He yelled at Jessie, who was watching in horror. She climbed down to the next level, looking back to see Trent carrying Rosco. "Keep moving!" He yelled at her, she quickly made her way down the next ladder. Trent caught up with her, suddenly on of the windows busted open, a reanimated sticking halfway through the window was clawing at Trent and grabbed his jacket. "Shit!" He yelled. Before he could react, Rosco bit its hand, biting off the fingers and freeing Trent.

They continued down till the lowest level but stopped when they looked down. As they were climbing down the fire escape, a large horde of the dead swarmed to the building, looking up at the trio like meat hanging above their heads. "What the hell are we suppose to do now!" Yelled Trent ritorically. Then, to his fear, Rosco lept off of the fire escape. Before Trent could scream in panic, he saw that Rosco had landed on the rooftop of a low building next to the fire escape.

Trent and Jessie looked at each other then to the building. Jessie leapt first landing next to the barking Rosco. Trent looked down at the monsters below, then to the building. "C'mon!" Jessie yelled. "You can make it!" Trent breathed in, then leapt forward. He was coming short, but grabbed the ledge of the building. Jessie quickly grabbed on to one of his hands. He struggled to climb but felt he was being pulled down. He looked down and yelled at the sight of the zombies grabbing his ankle which barely danggled over their heads.

"F*cking dead heads!" He yelled and started kicking. He broke their grasp and tried to climb up the ledge. Rosco latched his teeth onto Trents jacket sleeve and helped pull him up. He climbed up to the roof and didn't waste time. The three ran to the other side of the building and climbed down to the ground. The looked around the corner to see the things standing there looking at the roof, not knowing where they had gone. They slowly backed away from the building, but Jessie felt herself back into something. She turned to see a corpes starring at her, its mouth open ready to attack. She let out a scream and the zombie lunged at her. Its mouth met with the barrel of Trents shotgun. He fired and its head exploded from the inside.

They looke back to see the others had spotted them. Two, three of them sprinting out from the group at them. "RUN!" Trent screamed. Jessie grabbed Roscos leash and ran away, while Trent held his ground. He knew runners had to be taken care of. They run without ever getting tired. The front one neard Trent. He swung and bashed its head in. The second one ran up to him. Trent lowerd himself, shoving his shoulder into the runners gut, then flipped it over his back and onto the ground where he stopped its skull flat. He wasn't ready for the last one.

It tackled Trent to the ground. He struggled with it and kept it from biting him, its teeth just inches from his face. Jessie turned to see her boyfriend being wrestled in the dirt by the runner. She yelled his name and ran towards him. She approached the runner fighting Trent and kicked it off of him. It quickly tried to get to it's feet but was stopped by the butt of the shotgun slaming into its face by Jessie.

The two started to run again, but as they did they saw Rosco running in the opposite direction. He ran past them towards the group of dead heads slowly chasing the three. The dog targeted the closest one and lunged at it. He jumped up to its chest and tackled it to the ground and began to bite into its face. The other reanimated corpeses huddled around the dog attacking one of their own.

"Rosco!" Yelled Trent. He looked at their immediate area to see if any other zombies were coming from somewhere else. He saw that the area was safe for now for Jessie and sprinted to the horde of dead surrounding Rosco. "Trent! No!" Jessie yelled. Trent neared the huddle of corpses and aimed his shotgun, blasting its final round mid-run. A couple of them fell from the blast. He then grabbed his bat. "THAT'S MY DAMN DOG!!!" He yelled angrily.

He began swinging his bat at the dead heads. They turned their attention to Trent, who was viciously making his way into the huddle. He saw a glimpse of golden fur and grabbed the bright red collar. He pulled the dog from the crowd and immediately ran away. He looked down to see Rosco running along side him, seemingly fine. The thought ran through his head to thuroughly check him later.

He ran up to Jessie and grabbed he by the wrist without stopping. "Are you insane!?" She yelled. He looked back, angry at the question. "He's saved both of us before!" He yelled. The three made their back to the bar they had ran from previously. "What the hell Trent!?" Jessie said. "Why are we back here!? We should be getting as far away from this town as possible!"

He locked the doors. The windows were already barred shut by the bandits to keep dead heads from coming in. "This place is in the middle of nowhere Jessie." He said, calming down. "This town is seperated from everything else by miles of nothing but desert. If bandits or dead heads dont kill us, the desert will." She sat down on a chair and calmed herself. Trent listened for any noise coming from outside. "I think we dodged those things for now." He whispered. He then turned to Rosco. "Which means we'll be safe as long as we are quite." He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a dog muzzle.

He kneeled down infront of the tired dog and started to put if over his mouth. "I know you hate it boy." He said. "But we can't have you yappin' everytime one of those things pass by."

He then turned to Jessie. "Are you okay?" He asked her while sitting down in the chair in front of her. She nodded. "Yeah, thanks to you." She said. The two hugged, embracing each other for a while. He let her go and stood up. "We need supplies." He said. "Babe, look for water. Those guys must've had a lot somewhere with as many guys as they had with them." He said. "I'm going to grab as many of these guns as I can, their spare ammo has to be around here somewhere." Jessie looked up at him. "What are we doing after that?" She asked. "We get everything together, then get some rest. The suns going down and we cant be out there when it does." He said. "Tomorrow we'll see about finding a ride."
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"Come in Charlie Team. Do you read me?" Said Spc Williams over the radio. "Damn it!" She yelled. A concerned PFC Ramirez approached her. "Still no word?" He asked. "Hell no." She said. "Ramirez, their last report was cut off. They had already told us that they caught up with that team of B.C.C.O. but what I could make out of the very last bit was something about reanimated..."

Ramirez looked around worriedly. "Damn." He said to himself. He saw SFC Samson, ordering around a group of soldiers to pick up the B.C.C.O. bodies and get them out of the area. "Sergeant!" He yelled to him. Samson looked away from the soldiers and to Ramirez. "What is it Private?" He said back while walking towards him.

He approached Ramirez and Williams, and put his hand on Ramirez's shoulder. "I know we were having a talk before Private," he said. "but after what I saw you did earlier I'm willing to overlook the insubordination." Ramirez shook his head. "That's great and all Sergeant but we can't get in touch with Charlie Team. Their last message was about reanimated in the area."

Samson looked to Williams. "Is that so?" He asked. Williams nodded. "I've been trying to get them over the net since we neutralized the B.C.C.O. holding us here." She said. Samson then looked back to Ramirez. "Looks like we got creepers in the basement." He said. "Easy, just dont go through the basement level to get back."

"But Sergeant!" Outbursted Ramirez. "We have to get to Charlie Team! That's our own men down there!" Samson let go of Ramirez's shoulder and started to walk away. "This was a battle," he said. "survival was their responsibility."

"I really hate that man." Williams said. She then looked to Ramirez. "Ramirez, prep everything to get out of here. We have to go after BioCorp before it's too late to retrieve the data back." Ramirez looked at her confusedly. "Data? I thought we have the data." He said. Williams shook her head. "It seems amidst the chaos in that first wave of B.C.C.O. they got a hold of it, a copy of it atleast."

Just then, their attention was redirected to a Pulse soldier on the far side of the plant. "Hey!" He yelled. "You guys might want to get ready!" Every Pulse soldier in the plant brought up their weapons. "What the hell are you talking about?" Yelled Williams. He pointed behind him at the door pounding. "It's about to give way!" He yelled. Just as he finished his sentence the door flung open. Before anyone could fire a runner was biting into the neck of the unsuspecting Pulse soldier. He screamed as four more dead heads gathered ontop of him and started biting into him all over.

"REANIMATED!!!" Yelled the soldiers and started opening fire. Their bullets kept the dead back, but only those shot in the head fell to the ground. "The head damnit!" Yelled Samson. "Shoot them in the goddamn head!"

Ramirez cleared his mind, switched his M4 to single shot fire. He looked through the scope and carefully locked his aim between the eyes of a runner that made his way to the front of the group. He gently squeezed the trigger. The weapon fired off a single shot, the runner flipped backwards and laid on the ground motionless.

The Pulse soldiers started to tear through the waves of walking dead. Then, to their dread, a large thud came from the doorway. "Get ready!" Yelled Samson. The soldiers tensed up, fearing what was coming. The wall around the doors bursted into rubble. A roar was heard and a tyrant of a reanimated stood before them. "Its a brute!" Yelled the soldiers. "Kill that f*cking thing!"

They opened up on the giant dead head, not phasing it as it charged towards them. It swiped the heavy machinery out of its way as if it was nothing. It picked up one soldier with one hand and bit him in half. Ramirez paniced as the brute looked at him with half the soldier hanging from its teeth. Ramirez shot two bursts into the brutes face while running away. The brute stepped toward the running soldier but was knocked off balance by a grenade tossed by a soldier who dared to close in on the beast.

The angered brute slammed his fist down onto the soldier then looked back to Ramirez.
-------------------------------------------------

Geist turned from the elevator to the hallway, the far end still covered in smoke. He took cover behind a pillar and waited for an opputune moment to fire through the Pulse soldiers waiting for him on the other side. He readied his weapon, but stopped. He heared paniced screams coming from the smoke infront of him. "This is Charlie Team!" He heard a soldier yell. "The reanimated are all over us! They... AGGGGHHH!!!"

Geist activated his infared lenses and his sight peirced through the smoke. He saw the enemy soldiers being ripped to shreads by several undead. Geist grabbed a hand grenade from one of his pouches. He pulled the ring and tossed the grenade to the end of the hall. The explosion knocked the soldiers and undead to the ground. He quickly walked down the hall and into the smoke.

"Geist." Said Esper in his earpiece."What is your status." Geist saw an undead move on the ground and quickly fired a round into its skull without slowing down. "Headed back." He said. He continued to walk. "What is going on down there?" Asked Esper. Another undead reached up at Geist from the ground. He quickly shot a round in the head and kept moving.

"Reanimated showed up." He said. He heard a voice from the pile of bodies. It was a Pulse soldier reaching up to him. "Help..." he said. Geist aimed for his head and fired. "Samson not disposed of yet." Geist said to Esper. "I won't be long."

"Make it fast Geist." Esper said. "This place is contaminated, we might have to leave you behind." Geist opened the door to the large room, which was filled with the undead. "Understood." He said.

Geist made his way through the horde of reanimated. His M240 B made short work of the dead trying to attack him. He made it to the door on the other side. He pulled out a yellow and black grenade from his pouch that read 'White Phosphorus' on the canister. He tossed it into the croud of the living dead and closed the door, leaving them to burn in the huge fire that engulffed the room.

In the maze of hallways all was quiet. This area was most dangerous. He slowly walked through the turns, keeping an eye out on all areas the best he could. He slowly made a turn. A hand grabbed his face. He slamed down on the arm with his fist, snapping the arm off at the elbow. He then stuck the arm into the zombies mouth and kicked it into the next wall.

Another undead ran towards him at a high speed. He let go of his gun, which was strapped to him, and pulled out his knife. When the zombie got close enough, he grabbed it by the throat, spun it to the ground and shoved the knife into its face. A surprise attack from behind came upon Geist. He felt the teeth sink into his shoulder. He didn't panic, didn't yell. He simply pulled his pistol out and shot it in the face.

He stood up and pulled out a syringe from one of his vest pouches. He stabbed it into his neck and injected the fluid. He shook off the dizzy-spell that came afterward and moved on.

The elevator made a ping sound as the doors opened. Geist looked as the Pulse soldiers in the plant were being overpowered by the vast amounts of reanimated. He looked to his right to see a brute laying waste to a small group of soldiers. He then saw Samson sprinting in its direction.

He started to walk to Samsons location while firing through waves of reanimated. One Pulse soldier ran up to Geist and grabbed him. Geist looked to see a reanimated latched on by teeth to the soldiers neck. "Help! Help!" cried the soldier. Geist grabbed the soldier by the chest and threw him off of himself, leaving him to continue being bitten by the dead head.

He heard a female voice cry out from afar. "B.C.C.O.!" She yelled. Geist quickly let go of his weapon, grabbed his pistol and the nearest undead. He used the undead as a sheild while he fired back at the soldiers. As he shot he looked to see Samson climbing up the brutes back.

Samson grabbed the shoulders of the brute as it tried to grab him from its back. Samson took a knife and stabbed it in the back of the neck. He pulled out a grenade and bit down on the pin, yanking it out with his teeth. He shoved the grenade into the neck wound of the beast and jumped. He grabbed onto a ladder located on the nearest wall and climbed up to escape the blast radius. He made his way up to the catwalk above and looked below to see the brutes head explode in a firey blast. He chuckled under his breath.

"Samson." He heard a voice say. He looked to see a B.C.C.O. soldier standing on the catwalk with him. "They finally did it huh?" Samson said. "They finally sent you after me." Geist readied his weapon. "I'm the only one that can do the job." Geist said. Samson laughed. "Alright, so how about we do this like men?" Said Samson. He then threw his gun down onto the catwalk and kicked it below.

Geist aimed at Samsons face with his weapon. "Not here for pride." said Geist. "I'm here to do a job." He said. He was about to pull the trigger, but Samson charged, grabbed the gun away from Geist and threw it away. Geist pulled out his knife.

"Seems like you don't have a choice." said Samson while pulling out his own knife. "And don't even think about going for the pistol." he added. The two then charged each other and began to fight above the chaos below. Samson got a cut or two in, but ultimately Geist stood hanging Samson over the catwalk.

"So this is how it ends." said Samson. "Getting offed by BioCorps top lap dog." Geist pulled the pistol from his holister. "This is the pistol you were referring to." He said. He put the barrel into Samsons gut and pulled the trigger. Samson flinched in pain. "For someone who does things only mission critical that was pretty f*cked up of you Geist." He said with a laugh.

Geist holstered his pistol and grabbed Samsons with both hands. "That was for defecting." said Geist. Samson laughed. "What?" he said. "Don't tell me you missed your buddy Ghoul." Geist shook his head. "Anyone who defects disgust me." Geist then let go of Samson, dropping him into a large group of reanimated below. He didn't stay to watch him be eaten.

"Geist?" Said Esper. "We are ready to move, where are you." Geist stood beside the elevator to wait for it to open, firing at any reanimated that neared to close. "On my way." He said. "What of Samson?" She asked him. "Terminated. Mission complete." Said Geist. The elevator opened and Geist stepped inside, hitting the basement level button. "Well done, Geist." said Esper. "You successfully rid us of former Operative Ghoul. Head back now for extraction." The doors closed and the elevator pinged. "Roger." said Geist.
----------------------------------------------------

He stood amidst the snow, the runner closing in. He steadied his aim and sent an arrow through its head. He ran over to it to retrieve his arrow, only to find more over the hill waiting for him. He pulled his tommahawks out and gripped them tightly. He had been on a cold trail for days, this is all he has found. Places left to ruin, the dead thriving in once peaceful places. It made him sick to think about it.

He slashed down the runners as they made their way to him. Each one he slayed, an image came to his mind. Images of his life before this. A hunter for his tribe, a tribe the outside world had left alone. He thought of the soldiers that came after the attacks of the dead. They killed his brothers, they took his family. The last he saw of them was when they dragged his son from his mother who had just been shot. His anger fueled his attacks onto the hollow ones. He remembered the night well. He had been injured, unable to move as they took everything from him. That was the night he made a vow to the spirits.

"They take everything you have given me. The wind of death will flow through me so that I may deliver it to those who diserve it. Spirits, guide me, aid me in finding my family again. Help me avenge my fallen brothers. I vow to use your guidance for good. I vow to make this better. I am Stalking Wolf, spirits..."

Sir, let me just say, I am very impressed with your quality of writing. A vast improvement since we last rped, and considering you were already doing great then, I am proud to see that you have improved even upon already near perfection.

The world of Days Passed Away is set in post-zombie-apocalypse America. The RP has an 'in medias res' beggining, which means it begins in the middle of the action. Characters you take control of has already experianced their fair share of the chaos that comes with the devistation of a zombie apacolypse.

In August of 2012, the United States suffers a home-front attack from China, a war started over financial debt between the two countries. The attack on the coast of California/Oregon was short lived until the Chinese military was forced to retreat. The months that ensued were spent in preperation of a third world war, one that never came.

In fear that this war would be settled within their country, the United States government invested an ungodly amount of funds into research on bettering their military power. One of these was the billions of dollars given to a company called BioCorp, a company with a bad reputation and history of dealing in secretive and wicked experiments.

The funds were put towards research of a formula that could potentially enhance the performance of soldiers and make them somewhat "super human." The scientist experimented on animals with what they had created. The animal testing was a success. High increases in intelligence, strength, speed and indurance was apparent in the test subjects. They began human testing shortly afterward. During the human testing, the animal subject began to die out of mysterious causes. Their bodies were considered contaminated and were burned in a biohazard safe environment.

The human testing was performed on BioCorps personally hired B.C.C.O. agents, hired mercinaries paid to work in secret to deal in BioCorps hidden buisness deals. Their jobs included assassinations, threats and blackmail. The mercinaries showed the same results as the animal subjects and was kept under close servailence to watch for any signs of the formula causing any negative side effects or signs of possibly killing the subjects.

The side effects began to show. Anger, suicidal/homocidal tendancies, insanity and deterioration of immune system began to surface within the mercinaries. The cause was found out to be a synthetic ingrediant within the formula, now considered a virus. Necroenza, a compound added to the formula for a sort of "fast healing" effect to make for near invicibility in subjects was being thuroughly studied and was taken out of the formulas finished project.

A compound was created to fight back the Necroenza, dubbed Lebenamien. The formula was not a cure, but a substance created to subside the Nercoenza temporarily and would have to be taken regularly to aid in the subject with negative side effects.

The finished formula was ready for mass production that December. Then something happened. The raw Necroenza was stolen by agents of one of BioCorp's rival companies. Mistaken for a copy of the completed formula, the rival company sent in stealth agents to retrieve the virus. They made their way out of the BioCorp company headquaters before anyone noticed. BioCorp retaliated with sending in their best mercenaries, the ghost level B.C.C.O.s lead by their two top soldiers, Geist and Ghoul, to retrieve the dangerous compound.

Vial Industries, the company who had stolen the Necroenza, began human testing on the raw compoud immediatly, their findings were nothing less than terrifying. Within two hours, their subjects either killed each other, themselves, or died out from illness. A short hour after the subject had died, much to the horror of the Vial Ind. workers, they were back to their feet, still deceased.

The zombified test subject violently tried to escape, a few workers were attacked in the process. The virus spread quickly throught the laboratories of Vial Ind. and the area was quarantined off from the rest of the company.

The B.C.C.O. agents snuck into the corporations facility and infiltrated the labs, not expecting to see what they had found there. Reports came into BioCorp of the virus causing the dead to be reanimated into mindless undead that devour the flesh of the living. The agents successfully retrieved the stolen virus and destroyed all traces of what had happened, or so they thought.

The lower levels of Vial Ind. was still closed off and contained infected subjects. When the BioCorp clean-up crew arrived later that night to ensure all evidence was swept under the rug, they found the lower level laboratories. They were killed by the undead waiting for them there and the subjects escaped.

December 12, 2012, mass chaos engulfed the streets of New York City. The zombies were loose on the streets and the virus was spreading at an unfathomable rate. The U.S. military issued an order to quarantine the whole city. When the troops arrived, the city was in ruin and the military was overpowered by the undead.

The virus spread to the surrounding states. Canada and Mexico quickly closed their borders, not allowing anyone to escape in fear of it spreading to their land.

December 25, 2012, the entire contaniental United States was swarmed by the living dead.

The United Nations set a plan forward and issued a quarintine of a national level. January 3rd, 2013 they set of tactically placed EMP blasts within the United States, killing all electronic devices of any scale within North America, ensuring that vehicles, planes, radios, ect. would be rendered useless.

The United States of America, as a nation, no longer existed.

Months after that what use to be the U.S. government attempted to organize ways to keep the country intact and find a way to overcome the catastrophy, all in vain. The country was thrown into complete anarchy.

The government dissolved and the military along with it, people were left to fend from themselves against not only the dead but from crime and cruelty. Massive amounts of gangs arose from the anarchy, some causing chaos, others being hired to protect towns in return for ruling over the town they protect, being allowed to do whatever they please to the town, and its people.

BioCorp stayed intact throughout the chaos, its leader, a man who sees only profit and loss, was determined to find a way to benefit from this calamity. BioCorp began recruiting ex-military personel to build their B.C.C.O. into a full military sized force. Their goal, somehow use the virus, alter it, into a way to control the people of the land and build a new nation of their own.

In reaction to the madness, gangs, zombies, and B.C.C.O., many people that were high in power in the military befoe the apacalypse built Pulse, a purely military orginization with the goal of aiding humainity, rebuilding America, stopping BioCorp and wiping out the undead presence completely.

Both BioCorp and Pulse's presence eventually became strongest in Texas, which is where the RP takes place.

-Enemies of everyone-

Reanimated/Dead Heads: Otherwise known as zombies these are the living dead brought back to life with the Necroenza virus. This catagorey is of the most common type. Slow moving zombies are not a threat at all from afar, but up close they will not hesitate to attack and bite. The dead heads are most dangerous when they appear in large groups, which they do often.

Reanimated/Runners: Not as many in numbers as the dead heads the runners dont need a group to be a threat. Due to the rare occurance of the virus not deteriorating the muscular system of the infected, the zombie keeps its physical prowress amoungst it keeping the ability of agility. Runners are fast and they never tire. When they spot a potential meal they immediatly lock on to them and charge in a full sprint.

Mutant/Brute: Brutes are highly rare, thankfully. In a very rare few the virus doesnt kill the infected, rather it gives it the beneficial effects of the formula like super strength and near invincibility, though the virus takes away all sense of the person and only anger and the need to feed on human flesh are present in its mind.

Reanimated/Screachers: a rare reaction to the virus only found in a small amount of females who become infected, screachers are a type of undead that only feed on things already dead but not infected, making them scavengers. What is threatening about these zombies is how they come to gaining a meal. If they spot a living human, or large animal, they will let out a terrible blood curddling scream, drawing attention in the area and other zombies soon after.

Reanimated/Angels: These may or may not be just myth, spread by tales from survivors. If they are real, then they are the rarest of reanimated. All tales of "angels" consist of a dire situation befalling upon some unlucky soul and just when all seems hopeless an undead child shows them a path to safety. Angels are unconfirmed as an actual type seeing as no proof of their existance has ever been put forth.

Bandits/Gangs: Violent humans they rape, plunder and pilage. They are armed with whatever they could find, guns included. Some gangs are not as bad as others, but a "good" gang probably doesnt exist. Some gangs occupy a town and offer to protect it from other gangs and undead in return they are free to do as they please within the town and own it.

-Types of Playable Characters-

Survivors: These are the once American people just trying to live to see the next sunrise. Most of them have set some sort of goal for themselves to help them keep moving on. A lot of them have picked Dallas, rumored safe haven protected by Pulse, to be that goal. Your survivor doesnt have to have this goal. Make them do whatever you want, make them fight for themselves or others, whatever your choice, they have free structure. (Ex. Trent, Jessie)

Pulse soldier: Soldiers of Pulse are highly professional military personel that fight for the benefit of humanity and the rebuilding of America. Pulse soldiers have mission based structure, given a mission by higher command and expected to see it through. (Ex. Ramirez)

B.C.C.O.: Extremely skilled mercenaries highered by BioCorp to aid in their cause. B.C.C.O. troops have a job based structure, able to accept or refuse jobs set by BioCorp.

B.C.C.O. Ghost Soldiers: Best of the Best, the ace cards of BioCorp. The Ghost level soldiers are a handful of soldiers that have proven to be loyal to BioCorp even though they are just mercenaries. All Ghost level soldiers are infact infected with Necroenza but have access to the rare Lebenamien that keeps them from turning. Also Ghost soldiers hold somewhat "super human" abilities in strength, speed, intelligence and overall fitness. (Ex. Geist, Esper)

All Ghost levels are named after another word for "ghost." Example:
Banshee
Ghoul (now open after death of Samson)
Spirit
Spectre
Spook
Wraith
Phantom

Or whatever you come up with

Each Ghost level soldier specializes in some sort of specific field of expertise.

Example: Geist is the assault expert, experianced in standard military battle drills and a pro with the assault rifle class weapon and a balanced range of abilities. Esper is a Spy Ghost level, able to disguise herself for intel purposes.

Other classes your Ghost level soldier can specialize in:
Sniper
Stealth
Heavy Weapons (High power guns)
Explosives (Grenades, rocket launchers, grenade launchers, claymore mines)
Field Scientist (combative scientist who uses things like feremones that make a target become the center of attention to zombies, guns that fire rounds that infect enemies, maybe even a device that temporarily controls zombies? Be creative)
Combat Medic (the best medic BioCorp has to offer, along with being a highly skilled mercenary)
CQC (expert in hand-to-hand combat, also expertises in blades)

Or again whatever you come up with. Only one Ghost level per RPer.

-Rules-
Follow all of my rules and the forums rules alike.
-No Double Posts
-No Bunnying (Controlong characters or elements that arent yours to control)
-No Godmodding (making youre character too powerful or invincible, or survivng something they absolutely shouldnt)
-If your character is bitten and isn't a Ghost level B.C.C.O. then start finding a way to kill them off or allow them to turn into a reanimated. Note: once they turn into a reanimated you have no control over your character and their reanimated self becomes a "fair character" (a character anyone can decide the fate of)
-The golden rule of zombie fiction, characters don't use the z word!

-Sign Ups-

The sign ups are open, Ill demonstrate what is expected of a sign up below with my own sign up.

Name: Trent Westwood

Alias: None

Age: 17

Alliance: Survivor

Appearance: A young white male. Brown shaggy hair and blue eyes. He wears a white t-shirt and a red and white football letterman jacket. Tightish bluejean pants and black Converse shoes.

Weapon of choice: Trent prefers to use a baseball bat, shotgun or hunting rifle, but will use any means necessary to stay alive

Personality: Trent is a generally non-violent person. Raised right and taught to be respectful, however this is all thrown away when it comes time to protect Jessie, his girlfriend who he holds dearest in time as dark as these. When seeing Jessie in danger his personality turns to that of a ruthless protector who will lash out at anyone who threatens her. Hes responsible and usually good at calculating his odds, though every now and then he shows a bit of recklessness in attempts to keep what he has. He also holds his dog, Rosco, almost as near and dear to him as Jessie due to the dog rescuing him before.

Biography: Trent was the quaterback for his highschool football team, the Eagles. He carried the title without getting a big head over it. The night his team won the semifinals and he asked Jessie out is the night of the terrible accident that would end the country. The first zombies he had to slay was what use to be Jessies family, leaving him forever feeling as if he owed it to her to protect her, which would lead to him falling in love with her. For almost a year they stayed within their hometown, defending themselves, but eventually decided to head for Dallas, which is where we find them now in the story.

Prolouge: Here is where you are required to do what I did in the previews. Write a short pologue to your character and what they were doing just before the beginning of the RP. It can be as short or long as you'd like.

And there you have it. At the time everyones allowed 5 characters to control. Also here are some characters I used in the previews that I will not be controlling in the RP, so if you like you can use them. Characters in the previews do not require any prolouge.